


I Came Out To have A Good Time (And I'm Honestly Feeling So Attached Right Now)

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Gets Therapy, Explicit Sexual Content, Good Alpha Peter, M/M, One Night Stands, Only not quite, Steter - Freeform, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-24 17:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20709584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Derek takes a deep breath. He could go one of two ways right now. He could lean back, pretend he’s not interested, play it off as banter.Or he could…not.Give yourself permission to have a good time.He puts a hand out and grips the back of Chris’s neck, forcing him to look at him. “You think you’re too much for a wolf to handle? Really?”Chris smirks. “Look at you, all stubble and scowl and fucking leather.” He tilts his head and holds Derek’s gaze. “Got anything to back it up, Hale? Gonna show me a good time, fuck me open? Or are you all eyebrows and attitude?”Derek raises said eyebrows in invitation. “Come home with me, and find out.”Or, the one where Derek just wants to prove he can get laid without it being A Thing, and fate conspires against him, only not really.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsRidcully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/gifts).

> For the lovely [MrsRidcully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully) who wanted Dargent.  
The accidental knotting was all me.

Derek takes a deep breath and reminds himself that people do this every day, that it’s not even a big deal. He’s just here to have some fun, maybe get lucky. The words of his therapist echo in his head – _Try and put yourself out there without expecting it to end in disaster. Give yourself permission to have a good time._

Easier said than done when you have the dating history he does. He knows she’s right though, and he wants to be able to date, hell, even just make out, without tensing up and waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s sick of being a victim, and he’s ready to move on. So he squares his shoulders as he walks towards the bar, telling himself he’s going to order a beer, check the place out, and if there’s anyone there who catches his eye, he’ll see where it leads. Nothing bad is going to happen if he gets laid.

He just has to keep telling himself that.

As soon as he walks in he can feel eyes on him, appraising. The Derek of a year ago would have walked right out again, but he’s since learned to distinguish admiring glances from predatory ones, and he sees none of the latter, so he smiles and flashes what he knows are adorable bunny teeth as he casts an eye around the room. At first glance there’s nobody he’s drawn to. He’s almost disappointed, although there’s a tiny part of him that sags with relief – if there’s nobody he likes here, it’s not his fault – he tried, right? 

Except.

It’s been a long time between drinks, and he really was hoping to take someone home tonight, so he tells that tiny part of him to shut the hell up and determines to stay for at least half an hour, see what happens. He’s just ordering a drink and preparing to do another sweep of the room when he hears his name.

“Derek?” He half-turns in the direction of the voice, searching, and there, tucked away in a booth, is the last person he ever expected to see at a gay bar.

Chris Argent.

Chris raises a hand and waves Derek over, a curious expression on his face. Derek takes his beer and goes – he’s come to like Chris, and he figures if he’s sitting with him it at least reduces the odds of him getting hit on by that old guy in the corner who’s leering at him. Chris raises his bottle in greeting as Derek slides into the seat, saying, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“I could say the same about you.” Derek takes a swig, can feel Chris’s eyes tracking the length of his throat as Derek tips his head back. He puts the beer down and raises an eyebrow at him, questioning.

Chris shrugs. “Hell, it’s not like there’s anyone left in my family who cares now. Figured it was time to let myself have a little fun.” He fixes Derek with a keen gaze, and Derek gets lost in the blue of his eyes for a moment before he registers what Chris is asking him. “I said, you _do _know what kind of bar this is, right?” Derek shoots him an unimpressed look and Chris snorts. “Sorry. Stupid question. You just never struck me as the type, you know?”

Somehow, that strikes Derek as absurd, and he grins. “Not everyone’s like Stiles with his rainbow tattoo and pride flag.”

Chris lets out a low chuckle. “You think your uncle’s ever gonna clue in that all that’s for his benefit?” His laugh is warm and rich, and Derek finds himself leaning into it.

“God knows, with those two. I never know if they're flirting or threatening each other. Stiles tends to get what he wants, though. And he looks good since he came back from Europe. Peter's probably gonna cave.”

“Gotta say, kid’s got good taste. Peter’s a pretty man." Chris shuffles closer, and in a low tone he adds, “Not as pretty as you, mind.”

Derek blinks, and take a drink of his beer while he thinks how to respond. In the end he settles for, “You’re not so bad yourself. I may have heard you called a silver fox.”

Chris grins widely, his normally serious face lighting up. “That so?” He leans in again, his mouth close to Derek’s ear. “Tell me, you ever hunt a fox?” His breath is hot on Derek’s neck, and a wave of want rushes through Derek at the same moment he finally gets it. Chris is…Chris is _flirting _with him. He’s never been able to control his blush, and Chris must see it because he gives another chuckle. “Aaaw, you shy, baby? Out of your depth?” He’s teasing, but Derek can sense somehow that Chris will back off if he asks him to.

Derek takes a deep breath. Things could go one of two ways right now. He could lean back, pretend he’s not interested, play it off as banter.

Or he could…not.

_Give yourself permission to have a good time._

He puts a hand out and grips the back of Chris’s neck, forcing him to look at him. “You think you’re too much for a wolf to handle? Really?”

Chris smirks. “Look at you, all stubble and scowl and fucking leather.” He tilts his head and holds Derek’s gaze. “Got anything to back it up? Gonna show me a good time, fuck me wide open? Or are you all eyebrows and attitude?”

Derek raises said eyebrows in invitation. “Come home with me, and find out.”

* * *

Derek will have to send his therapist flowers, he thinks hazily, but the thought’s a fleeting one, driven from his mind by the noises Chris is making under him. He writhes and moans, keening and begging for more as Derek drives his hips forward, thrusting into the divine heat of Chris’s ass.

Derek hadn’t expected Chris to be a size queen, and he definitely hadn’t expected him to have the stamina he has, but here they are, an hour in, and Chris shows no sign of being sated, despite having come twice, once on Derek’s fingers and once on his cock. Derek's doing his best to hold back, make it last. He doesn’t think it’s ever been this good, and he doesn’t want it to end. His body has other ideas though, every nerve ending sizzling, every brush of skin against Chris’s a torture and a delight.

Derek pauses for a second to gather himself, and Chris lets out a deep groan. “Keep going, baby. So damn good. Want you deeper.”

Derek’s breath catches. He doesn’t think he _can_ get deeper. Chris’s ass is dripping with lube and precome, wide open, wet and warm around his dick, and Derek’s in as far as he can get. His cock still jumps at the words though, and his hips rock forward. Chris has those long legs of his wrapped around Derek’s waist, and he flexes his muscles and pulls Derek closer, his grin slightly manic and stupidly attractive. “Gonna give me all you’ve got? Wanna walk funny tomorrow.”

Derek doesn’t mean to thrust in as hard as he does, honestly. But the thought of it, of Chris with a hitch in his step, claimed and marked as Derek’s, takes his breath away, and he fucks in hard, grunting. He’s on a knife edge, teetering but not quite there, and Chris _isn’t helping_, clever hands teasing at Derek’s pecs, thumbs tracing over sensitive nipples, Chris laughing when he shudders. Derek rears back from the touch, not willing to give up control just yet. 

He pulls out and flips Chris over, and at the sight of Chris kneeling before him he's suddenly overcome with a need to _mount_, to _breed. _He’s not gentle, but Chris doesn’t seem to care, spreading his legs wide and dropping his back into a gorgeous deep arch. Derek grasps his hips and fucks in hard, all semblance of restraint gone, his mind buzzing with _mine, claim, take, _his body alight. Someone’s making low growling noises, and it takes him a minute to comprehend that it’s him. His hips have somehow developed a mind of their own, settling into a slow rolling motion that’s forcing his dick impossibly deeper, and he’s helpless to stop.

He only realizes what’s happening when it’s too late. His balls draw up tight and he grips Chris’s hips and pulls him back onto his cock, certain he’s about to come, but instead Derek feels a heaviness, a thickness at the base of his cock, a deep throbbing that he’s never experienced before, and he’s _so close_, needs this so badly right now. His whole body’s shaking, and he can’t do anything but shove Chris down into the mattress and let his own body follow, pressing forward with gritted teeth as he strives to reach his peak. He’s right there, just needs to get over the edge. A snarl is dragged from his throat, he _pushes_, and Chris yelps as Derek forces himself inside.

It’s bliss, and Derek’s body is awash with pleasure as he finally, finally starts to pump Chris full of his come. Derek shivers with the sheer, unmitigated satisfaction of it. At first he thinks he’s finished coming, but then another wave hits him, his balls start to pulse and throb and swell, and it finally hits Derek exactly what he’s just done.

He’s popped a knot.

Fuck.

Knotting’s not a myth, after all. Chris is gonna be _pissed._

Derek props himself up on his elbows and kisses the back of Chris’s neck in silent apology, cursing himself and waiting for the hunter to start berating him. But Chris doesn’t smell upset. In fact, his scent is rich with contentment. Chris lets out a throaty hum. “Damn, baby,” he chuckles. “If I’d known that was on the cards, I would have slept with a werewolf sooner.”

“It’s - it’s not too much? I didn’t hurt you?” It’s not like Derek can do anything about it anyway, has Chris plugged up tight as a drum, but he feels like he should at least ask.

Chris gives a tiny shake of his head. He rolls his hips, clenching around the knot and making Derek shudder. “We gonna be here long, baby?”

Derek has to take a minute to form words, distracted by the way Chris’s movements have his knot pulsing and throbbing. “I don’t know. I never knotted someone before,” he finally rasps out.

Chris stills for a second at that, saying, “That so?”

Derek buries his face in Chris’s shoulder and nods, feeling his cheeks pink.

“Huh,” is all Chris says, and then he goes back to working his hips, and it feels so good that Derek’s beyond words.

It takes half an hour for them to part, and in that time Chris comes twice on Derek’s knot. Derek’s not sure if he should be proud or embarrassed.

Mainly he’s just confused.

* * *

It’s early the next morning when Derek opens one eye to find Chris sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, pulling his boots on.

Derek’s memories of what happened after his knot deflated are sketchy, at best. He remembers insisting on dragging Chris into the shower and washing him from head to foot, ignoring Chris’s mutterings about being a grown-assed man, and he remembers drying him and then pinning him against the wall and scenting him thoroughly, but it’s all hazy, as though it happened to someone else.

He does recall, with absolute clarity, waking some time in the pre-dawn hours, pulling Chris close, and thinking, _mine._

He must make some sort of noise, because Chris turns to him and gives him a crooked grin. “Morning. Thought you’d like me gone before Peter wakes up, or he’ll make breakfast awkward as all hell, knowing him.”

He has a point. Derek and Peter have worked their way back to an amicable relationship – you could even say they’re close – and sharing a house works for them, but Peter will always and forever be the asshole uncle who teases Derek every chance he gets. Derek sits up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face and stifling a yawn. “Yeah, you’re right.” But even with the threat of Peter, Derek’s weirdly reluctant to see Chris go. “I’m sorry again about the, y’know.“ He makes a vague gesture. “I swear it’s never happened before.”

Chris regards him steadily, and Derek gets the feeling Chris is waiting for him to say something more. In the end though, Chris shrugs. “Not gonna lie, it was unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it.” He stands and stretches, then gives Derek a nod. “You wanna do this again, call me.”

And then he’s gone, limping out the door, and Derek misses him already, though he couldn’t tell you why.

_

* * *

Peter’s an early riser, and nosy to boot, which is why when Derek wanders into the kitchen and makes a coffee Peter’s right behind him. “Good time last night?” he asks, smirking.

Derek shrugs, ducking his head and examining his coffee intently as his cheeks burn. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything Peter will leave this alone.

And pigs might fly.

“It’s just, I heard some interesting noises. Very _particular_ noises,” Peter muses. “And I saw Chris’s SUV was parked out front. Something you want to tell me?”

Derek risks a glance, and Peter’s wearing that smug look he gets when he knows something_. _Experience tells Derek that Peter will needle him till he confirms his suspicions. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t make Peter work for it. “Don’t know what you mean,” he mutters.

“Oh? so that wasn’t the sound of our favorite hunter getting fucked six ways till Sunday? Not just fucked, but more?” Peter arches a brow at him, and Derek wants to crawl under the table to get away from that knowing gaze. They _were _loud, now he thinks about it. And he doesn’t like what Peter’s implying with that ‘more’ comment. Peter _can’t_ know what happened, can he?

“Shut up. This has nothing to do with you,” he snaps. Maybe it’s an overreaction, but Peter has that effect on people.

Peter’s observing him keenly, and his blue eyes seem to pierce Derek’s very soul. He speaks slowly, deliberately. “Now, now nephew, no need to get all tied up in knots.”

Derek’s head whips up at that, his mouth dropping open. Peter’s expression is one of sheer glee as he pokes Derek in the chest. “I knew it! You knotted Chris Argent!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Derek blurts. “It just happened!”

Peter gives a soft laugh. He’s _beaming,_ for whatever reason. “It does tend to happen like that, or so I’ve heard. How did he take the news?”

Derek frowns. “What news?”

The grin drops from Peter’s face, and is replaced with a look of concern. “Derek,” he says, and his tone is far too gentle. “Do you know anything about knotting?” Derek’s starting to get a bad feeling about this. Peter’s being _nice,_ and that’s always worrying. “Did your father ever talk to you about what it means?” 

Derek shakes his head. “I didn’t even know we _could _knot,” he confesses. “I thought it was a myth.”

“Of course,” Peter says almost to himself. “You were too young, before the fire.”

Derek can’t help the growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. All he wanted to do was have a good time, and now Peter’s here being all cryptic and concerned, and for god knows what reason he can’t stop thinking about Chris, is already itching to call him, and he doesn’t have the patience for this. “Peter, just tell me, please. Is it bad?”

At that, Peter’s expression clears, and he gives Derek a soft smile. “Not bad, pup. Not this time.” Derek lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, relief flooding his system. And then, because he’s always had a flair for the dramatic, Peter adds, “Of course, it depends on how Chris reacts to finding out he’s your mate.”

Derek’s coffee cup shatters as it hits the floor.

* * *

“Calm down, Derek,” Peter says for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“_Don’t tell me to calm down!_ You didn’t just find out that you knotted someone who was meant to be a casual fling! You didn’t just find out it means you’re his mate!” Derek throws his arms wide and continues to pace. He points a shaking finger at Peter. “I blame you!”

“Me?” Peter clutches at his chest. “What did I do?”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, and closes it again. “Nothing,” he mutters. “But you don’t have to be so – so happy about it!”

At that, Peter stands and wraps an arm around Derek’s waist, pulling him close. “Derek, take a breath,” he commands, and there’s a thread of Alpha steel there. Derek can’t help but respond, and he goes lax in Peter’s arms. “Better,” Peter declares. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit down and listen while I tell you what you should have been told when you turned eighteen, and then you’re going to have a meltdown – don’t deny it, of course you will, it’s you,“ he says when Derek goes to object, and Derek feels himself deflate at the truth of it. “Then, you’re going to get in that ridiculously showy car of yours, drive over to Argent’s place, and tell him.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise. “_My_ showy car? You drive a Cobra!”

It’s a distraction, but Peter doesn’t rise to the bait. “Stop deflecting. This is a _good thing_, Derek. Let yourself have it.” Of course, thinks Derek. This _would_ be the one time Peter takes something seriously.

“What if he’s not interested? I _knotted_ him, Peter. What if he hates me for it?” he whispers. He can’t help curling in closer, taking comfort from Peter’s solid warmth.

Peter lets out a low chuckle. “Derek. Trust me when I say, the wolf’s never wrong about its mate. Also, have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Derek lets out a deep sigh. Peter’s an asshole, but he’s also a good Alpha, and Derek knows he wouldn’t lie, not about something like this. “Fine,’ he mutters into the side of Peter’s neck. “But if he shoots me with wolfsbane then I _will _blame you. And then I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

He feels the huff of Peter’s laughter against his skin. “I thought we tried that already, and agreed that once was enough?”

* * *

“_Have a one-night stand, _they said_. It doesn’t have to mean anything_ they said,” Derek mutters under his breath. He’s sitting in the Camaro, parked in front of Chris’s house, trying to get up the nerve to walk up to the front door.

It took a full day of Peter explaining, pulling out old texts, and answering questions, and Derek had still been hesitant. In the end Peter had rolled his eyes and said, ”If you don’t go and see him, I will.”

And that, the thought of his uncle _discussing knotting_ with his mate, (because Chris is his mate, he can feel it, thrilling down to his very bones), had been enough to spur Derek to action. He’s been sitting here for ten minutes, has seen the twitch of Chris’s curtains, knows the other man knows he’s here. But he still can’t quite get himself to move. Just then his phone pings with a text from Peter.

_I swear to god Derek if you’re sitting outside in that car I’m coming down there._

Damn his uncle for knowing him so well.

Derek grabs the bottle of Gentleman Jack he’d picked up as a gift - Chris doesn’t really seem like a flowers type of guy – and gets out of the car, bootheels clicking loudly against the pavement in the quiet of the evening. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Probably.

Chris opens the door before he even gets to knock, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his features. It takes Derek’s breath away, and he finds himself crowding in the door, burying his face in Chris’s neck and inhaling deeply. Chris’s scent is intoxicating, maddening and perfect and irresistible. It takes all his willpower to step back, but he does. He holds out the bottle in silent offering, and Chris’s eyebrows raise. “For me? That’s the good stuff, baby.”

Hearing Chris call him _baby _sends a shiver down Derek’s spine. He coughs, clearing his throat, and shuffles his feet, aware that he’s acting like a teenager on a first date. “Yeah. I thought you’d like it. Can – can we talk?”

“Sure thing. Come on inside. What’s on your mind?” Chris leads Derek through to the living room as he speaks and settles back in a recliner that’s seen better days.

Derek perches on the edge of the sofa and tries not to let his nerves get the better of him. He plans to tell Chris that they’re mates, but he doesn’t want to ambush him with it. Peter’s told him it’s possible for mates to reject each other, but now that Derek’s had time to think, the idea of Chris choosing not to be his partner is something he doesn’t want to contemplate. “I – uh. I like you, Chris. And I had a good time last night.”

Chris laughs. “Trust me, we both had a good time. I’m still a little tender from it.”

“Yeah, uh. I’m sorry about that. It’s kind of what I wanted to talk about.”

Chris leans forward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. The knot, it’s. Well, it means something. I didn’t know, and I’d never normally do something like that without consent, but it wasn’t something I could help.” He can feel the tips of his ears burning. Chris nods, looking at him expectantly, and Derek wishes there was some way to say this without, you know, _saying_ it. He forges ahead though, determined. He’s letting himself have this good thing, he reminds himself. “Werewolves are instinctive. Sometimes we don’t know what we know until we know. And then sometimes the wolf knows and we don’t. I didn’t know, but now I do.”

_Congratulations, Dumbass. That made no sense. _He cringes and takes a deep breath, preparing to try again.

He’s just opening his mouth when Chris grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement, and says, “Derek, is this about the fact you knotted me because we’re mates?”

Derek’s jaw shuts with a snap.

Chris _knows._

He knows, and he isn’t running from the room screaming, and he isn’t threatening to shoot Derek, and he doesn’t seem upset – it anything, he seems happy about it. Derek blinks a couple of times, and finally gets out “You – you knew?”

Chris makes a seesawing motion with his hand. “It's one of those things. You hear rumors but you don’t know if they’re true. But I kinda guessed. Came home this morning and did a little research, confirmed it.” 

“And you’re okay with it?” This all seems suspiciously easy. It can’t be this easy.

Can it?

Chris leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. “You know what? I really am. I think we’re a good match.” In an echo of Peter, he says, “And I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately?” That startles a laugh out of Derek. Chris cocks his head. “To be honest, I was surprised you didn’t say anything at the time, wondered if it was because you weren’t interested, what with our family history. Figured I’d leave the ball in your court. But then, you turned up tonight, and started beating round the bush trying to tell me. I guess that means you want this?”

“I didn’t say anything when it happened because I didn't know.”

“I guess there was no one to tell you?”

Derek gives a small shake of his head. “Peter, he filled me in.”

Chris’s grin gets a little wider. “That must have been a fun conversation.”

Derek rolls his eyes and returns Chris’s grin. “There aren’t words for how smug he was at getting to give me the mating talk. In _painful, excruciating_ detail.” He shudders at the memory, and Chris laughs. Derek’s aware he’s staring like a fool, but he doesn’t care. Chris with his head thrown back laughing is a sight to behold, and Derek kind of want to kiss him.

So he does.

He stands and walks over, pulls Chris to his feet, and puts a hand behind Chris’s head before leaning in and kissing him, soft and sweet, the barest press of lips. He can feel Chris smiling against him. “So, how we gonna do this baby?” he murmurs into Derek’s mouth.

Derek kisses him again, deeper this time, his tongue pressing forward into Chris’s eager mouth. It’s slow, lazy, and it feels _right. _It goes on for long minutes, until Derek regretfully pulls back. “I - can we just date, to start with?”

It’s stupid, and he knows it’s stupid, Peter’s told him that if you find your mate it’s guaranteed to be a good match, but Derek thinks he’s allowed to be cautious. Chris just nods. “I’d like that.” He cocks an eyebrow. “But the dating’s gonna involve sex, right? Not anytime soon though, you really did a number on me.”

Derek feels all the tension leave his body as he throws his own head back and laughs.

* * *

After that, it really is easy. There’s kissing, and teasing, and shared glasses of Jack, and talking – _so much talking_. Derek doesn’t think he’s talked this much in years, even to his therapist, but Chris nods in understanding, shares his own fears, asks his own questions, and Derek feels something settle in his soul. It’s close to 2 am when they finally fall into an easy silence, and Chris suggests that Derek stay the night.

When Derek shyly asks Chris if he can scent him properly Chris doesn’t say a word, just steers Derek into his bedroom, peels out of his clothes, and lays back on the bed, eyes closed and arms spread like an offering.

Derek strips out of his own clothes and crawls up the bed, overcome with the need to get his touch, his smell, on Chris. He nibbles up the side of Chris’s neck, leaving a trail of skin that’s pink from his stubble. Chris opens one eye and growls out, “I was serious about keeping your dick to yourself. I’m still getting over last night.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I just need to be close, to touch.” And honestly, that’s all he wants - Chris under his hands, firm and solid and _there. _He thinks about trying to explain it, but he really hasn’t had much luck explaining anything tonight, so he settles for, “Wolf thing.”

Chris reaches out and pulls him close. “If it means I get my hands on you, I’m all for it.”

* * *

They don’t have sex - don’t even come close. The most they do is make out some. But for all that, it’s achingly intimate. Derek explores Chris’s body in a way he hadn’t the night before, taking his time, running his hands over long legs and taut muscled abs, tilting Chris’s head back so he can bury his face in at the base of his neck and just breathe him in. He loses all track of time.

Chris’s hands are on him too, strong palms running down his back, a mouth at the base of his throat leaving open-mouthed kisses, fingers tangled in his hair as Chris pulls him close. Derek’s not sure where he ends and Chris begins, their scent intermingling and creating something heady and alluring. “You smell like us,” he breathes against Chris’s ear, satisfied, his wolf humming with contentment.

Chris hums, pulling Derek so he’s on top of him, reaching round and running a hand over Derek’s ass. “Yeah? You like that? Maybe sometime you’ll let me get inside this pretty rear end of yours, really make you smell like me, huh?”

It’s dressed up as teasing, but Derek knows what Chris is really asking. He takes his time answering, stopping for more kisses along the way, considering whether he’s ready to trust someone that much. But when he gazes into Chris’s eyes and sees nothing but affection there, he knows the answer. “Yeah. Yeah I’d like that.” He pauses for a beat. “But not till at least the third date. I’m not that kind of guy.”

Chris bursts into surprised laughter, his whole body shaking, and at the sound something sets free in Derek’s chest, a strange sensation of lightness and warmth, and it’s honestly been so long it takes him a moment to recognize it.

Derek’s _happy._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please. Like I'd leave you hanging without adding this.

As Derek leans against the counter in the early morning light, he thinks to himself that this may possibly be the best day of his life.

Strike that – it’s definitely the best day of his life.

Not only is it his wedding day, (thus why he’s staying at Peter’s – Chris is a traditionalist and had kicked him out for the night), he got woken at 3 am by the most wonderful thing he’s ever heard.

Stiles, cursing Peter out.

Stiles had cornered Peter at the bachelor party last night, pressing him against a wall with a look of determination on his face and tilting his head back to expose his throat. “You want this, Alpha?” he’d challenged, loud enough that every werewolf there could hear.

Peter’s mouth had dropped open, and Derek had been close enough to hear the sharp intake of breath, see the flash of red eyes. “Don’t you think you’re a little young?” Peter had said, sounding like the words were being torn from him.

Stiles had shaken his head, batted his eyes coquettishly and purred, “I’m twenty-three, Peter. I’m in my prime. I’m _ripe.”_

Peter had let out a low growl, flung Stiles over his shoulder and stalked out, and that was the last Derek had seen of either of them. When he’d finally made it home at midnight the lights were off, and he just assumed they’d gone…well, somewhere. Not here. But then he’d been dragged from his sleep by a piercing yelp and a groan, and Stiles yelling _“Fuck! What the fuck is that, Peter?”_

Derek was instantly awake. That yelp was eerily familiar and Derek had cocked his head, listening. Surely not.

But then, “Your dick is stuck in my ass!” Stiles had wailed, and Derek had had to bury his face in his pillow to stop from bursting out laughing. The irony of this happening to Peter wasn’t lost on him, and he’d lain there grinning widely, listening to the conversation through the decidedly non-soundproof walls. 

It was fantastic.

Peter, in soothing tones. “Stop moving, sweetheart, you’re just making it worse.”

“Well _excuse me!_ I’ll shove a fist up your ass shall I, and see if you lie there quietly and take it. Fucking werewolves and their magical expanding dicks. This is _so_ typical of you!"

“It’s not like I did this on purpose you know! You were the one with the exposed throat and come-hither eyes and _Oh Alpha, I’m ripe for you,_” Peter had been decidedly snappish.

“Yeah well, it’s not like you were ever going to make a move. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

There’d been silence, and then Peter admitting, “I wanted you too, sweet boy. But I was trying to do the decent thing, just for once, and biding my time.”

A very quiet. "Oh. Really?"

"Really."

It had gone quiet for a while there. Then he'd heard, “Christ, Peter. This thing’s massive. How long does this last?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. It’s new to me as well.” 

Derek had resisted the urge to yell out _“Half an hour, give or take.” _He didn’t want to spoil this for Peter.

That could wait till tomorrow.

* * *

When Peter walks out into the kitchen, Derek’s waiting for him, wearing a grin a mile wide. “I heard some interesting noises last night, Uncle,” he says lightly. “Very _particular _noises. Something you’d like to share?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak but he’s interrupted by Stiles yelling from the bedroom. _“YOU BETTER HURRY UP WITH THAT COFFEE, PETER. I’M YOUR NEW MATE - PAMPER ME, DAMMIT.”_

Derek snorts at the pinched expression on Peter’s face. “Oh, someone a little sore and cranky this morning? You could say Stiles is…_not_ happy?”

Peter shoots Derek a dirty look as he pours a mug of coffee and scurries back to the bedroom. “Not a _word,_” he snarls.

Derek smirks, and starts cooking breakfast. Stiles must smell the bacon, because Derek hears him telling Peter, “You'd better bring me breakfast in bed, you big-dicked asshole. Its not like I’m walking anywhere,” and then, "Oh my god, am I going to be limping at the wedding?"

“Here, darling. Let me make it better for you, give me your hand.” Derek knows Peter’s draining Stiles’ pain.

There's a relieved groan, and then, “Gods, that’s so much better. You don’t pull this shit with a knot every time, do you? Because hell no to that.”

Peter’s voice - soft, reassuring. “No, darling boy. I promise it's just this once. I can control it after this.”

“Well good. You can keep that thing the hell away from me.” A beat. “Most of the time, anyway.”

They really are well matched, Derek thinks, and it’s confirmed when Peter comes into the kitchen and Stiles shouts after him “AND DON’T EVEN _THINK_ OF BRINGING ME SOGGY BACON!”

Peter lets out an offended gasp and yells back, “I would _never!_ That’s sacrilege!”

Derek rolls his eyes, and turns up the burner on the stove so those two heathens can have their burnt offerings.

* * *

Once Peter’s packed Stiles off with scenting and kisses and assurances he’ll see him at the wedding and they’ll talk more after, Derek is treated to the sight of Peter pacing frantically round the living room, hands clutched in his hair, babbling, “Mates, Derek! We’re mates! I wasn’t expecting this, and I’m not prepared!”

“Calm down, Peter,” Derek advises, grinning. This day just gets better and better.

“Calm down? I’m mates! _With_ _the son of the Sheriff!_ John’s going to skin me and make me into a wolfskin rug when he finds out!” Peter's in serious danger of wearing a path in the carpet as he continues to pace.

Derek lets him flail a little longer before he sighs and steps in Peter’s path, wrapping his arms around his back and commanding, “Deep breath.” Peter takes a breath, and Derek rubs his back comfortingly before asking the important question. “Peter, do you want this?”

Peter lifts his head from where he’s dropped it on Derek’s shoulder. “_Stiles_, of all people. You realize I’ll never have a moment’s peace again.”

_“Do you want this?”_ Derek repeats.

Peter slumps. “That’s the worst part. I really do.”

“And is Stiles okay with it?”

“For all his bitching and moaning this morning, apparently yes. Says he’s lusted after me for years, persistent little shit.”

Derek shrugs, and parrots back what Peter told him six months ago. “Trust me when I say, the wolf’s never wrong about its mate. I say if you both want it, run with it.”

Peter breathes deeply. “I suppose. Although telling John…” He winces.

Derek grins. “Maybe let Stiles handle that one, while you stay out of range.”

The ghost of a smile appears of Peter’s face, and he appears to be over his initial panic. "Maybe so. And Derek? Thank you." His scent has lost that sour, distressed edge, so after one last long hug, Derek leaves him to it.

He’d like to talk for longer, celebrate Peter finally finding his mate, but now’s not the time.

He has a wedding to prepare for.


End file.
